All I Want To Know
by PhantomHunter829
Summary: Lance just wants to finish his drama major. Keith is escaping his past. Pidge needs to prove their worth. Shiro is trying to change his life. Hunk is creating a name for himself. And they're all colliding in the college play.
1. Chapter 1

Something heavy hit the ground, landing with a dull thud. Only two or three heads turned towards the noise, and those that did only saw the girl who had dropped her books being scolded by the librarian. Lance shook his head sympathetically. Next to him, the fast paced clicking of computer keys resumed. Lance turned to the small student to his left.

"Pidge?" He asked quietly, barely above a whisper. They didn't reply, but lance hadn't really expected them too. Pidge Holt was a pretty quiet kid. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?"

"I am." They replied, pushing their glasses up on their nose.

"You're hacking into Prof. Iverson's personal email account."

"Didn't specify what I was studying."

"You're…" he paused, looking them up and down as they gave him a small glare. And really, what did he care if his least favourite professor was compromised? "Whatever."

Pidge smiled and turned back to their computer, most likely looking for more dirt on Iverson. Taking that as a sign that they were done talking, Lance let his vision wander to Hunk. The big guy was sitting across from him at the round library table, nose buried intently in a large black folder. He was wearing a long sleeved yellow t-shirt, a pair of green cargo pants, a black puffy vest was slung over his shoulders, matching his black runners. It wasn't far off from Lance's own outfit, actually. Lance was wearing a white and blue baseball shirt, black jeans and a green canvas jacket.

"What're you working on?" Lance asked, raising his eyebrow at his friend curiously.

"I'm reading the script," Hunk paused to look up at his friends, "shouldn't you guys be too?"

"Studying." Pidge mumbled as they started scrolling through Iversons emails with his wife.

"Yeah, and I got bored." Lance claimed, probably at too loud a volume for the library.

Pidge looked up from their hacking. "And you harp on me for not doing homework? Hypocrite."

"It's a volunteer run play, Holt, not my major."

Hunk paused, raising a hand to his temple. "Aren't you majoring in drama?"

"Yes."

Both of his friends looked at him for longer than was necessary, waiting for him to see the fault in his logic. However, being Lance McClain, he did not.

"Just get back to studying, Lance." Pidge instructed "Then, when you're done, I'll tell you about iversons unhealthy obsession with sewing."

"His WHAT?" Lance cried, earning himself an angry glare from the librarian. "Oh my gosh."

"Do your work, McClain," Pidge repeated, running their left hand through their honey coloured hair, "and you get the deets."

"Done." Lance hissed as he whipped his head back to the large binder in front of him. He was nearly halfway done the blasted thing. It took nearly all his might just to keep track of who was who, what with all the fake identities and love triangles.

The play was one of Shakespeare's comedies, but the language had been modernized, if only slightly. It was called Twelfth Night or What You Will, and was some sort of convoluted love story. And it was hella confusing. All Lance could do was keep track of his own character, Duke Orsino. The Duke was in love with some chick named Olivia, who was in love with some guy, who was actually a girl, who had fallen in love with the Duke. It was getting complicated. Nevertheless, he pushed through, if only for the gossip about his least favourite professor.

"Who plays Viola, again?" Lance looked up from his script to meet Hunk's eyes. It was obvious from the pain on his face he was just as confused with all of this. Viola was the girl who was masquerading as a man named Cesario. She was also the final live interest for Orsino, and Lance was hyper aware that he would have to kiss and 'marry' whoever played the part.

"Dunno. It's in the front. Tell me if it's Jenny." Lance mumbled, turning back to his script. He was trying to remember why he was reading about some dude named Malvolio.

The sound of flipping pages filled the quiet library hall. Pidge snorted.

"I'm not even in the play and I know that." They claimed, tugging at the zipper of their dark green hoodie. They wore it unzipped over a white shirt, with light blue jeans rolled up at the ankles to accommodate for their height (or lack thereof).

"You do?" Hunk's finger scanned down the front page of the folder. "Who is-" he stopped cold, his voice lowering to a confused whisper, "what?!"

Pidge snorted "Didn't see that one coming?" They laughed, turning to glance between Hunk and Lance.

"He's a guy!" Hunk objected, looking at Pidge with horrified eyes.

"A pretty pixie-like guy, you must admit." Pidge shot back, eyes still dancing between the two boys.

"What?" Lance asked desperately, grabbing the script from Hunk's now loose grip, "Who is it?"

A pair of blue eyes searched desperately down the lists of castings, silently cursing the drama Prof. for organizing it alphabetically. Viola's name was near the bottom, with a long line drawing over to the actor's name. Lance's repulsed shriek could be heard from the medical science building, nearly a block away.

"KEITH?!"

* * *

"Allura, could you pass the eyeshadow?" Shiro called from the other end of his and Keith's dorm.

"The eyeshadow…" the girl's voice muttered, shuffling through three entire drawers of the stuff, "I'm going to assume that means you want me to just throw the whole quiznacking desk at you."

Keith snorted, trying to fit all of Shiro's ridiculous eyeliner collection in one drawer, a foolish quest. "Why do you need this much makeup anyway? I mean really-" he waved an eyeliner pen at the older boy, "hot pink?"

"Oh!" Allura gasped, yanking the eyeliner pen from Keith's hand "you stole that." She didn't sound shocked in the slightest.

"Need it for the Wonderland Aesthetic." Shiro smiled as he winged the silver eyeliner he was using on Allura, "you can blame Disney for giving the Cheshire Cat pink whiskers."

"Pretty sure they were fuchsia." Keith mumbled as Allura shot up and dashed away before Shiro could take back her eyeliner. He rolled his eyes and looked up at himself in the mirror.

His usually long black hair had been pulled behind his head into a ponytail, with a thin white headband holding his last few stray hairs in place. His dark eyes were rimmed with shimmering mascara, and solid black eyeliner. Sparkling maroon eyeshadow had been dusted onto his eyelids. Gold blush contrasted with the blood red lipstick he wore.

Shiro really had been making use of his classes. He made it pretty clear he was the one majoring in cosmetology. He'd been coating both Keith and Allura in makeup nonstop for the last month. Some big show coming up or something. Keith still had blush and powder foundation clinging to the top of his grey hoodie.

In the reflection he could still see Allura and Shiro wrestling. She was winning by a landslide. He was pinned underneath her, Allura's legs wrapped around his torso. She was doing her best to grab at the pink pen, but due to his additional height, she wouldn't be able to do much in that position. She had taken it upon herself to smudge his eyeliner, so he wasn't going to lay there much longer.

"Jeez," Keith chuckled as he searched for a makeup wipe, "get a room you two."

"Keith, please!" Allura rolled off of Shiro to slap his arm, "stop saying things like that!"

Keith snickered, turning to meet his friend's blue eyes, "I'm joking."

She punched his arm, blushing, "you'd better be." Shiro smiled sweetly behind them, his eyeliner a torrential mess.

"What're you making that face for, Takashi?" Keith inquired, noting how the man's eyes lingered on Allura longer than necessary.

"Nothing~"

Allura reached behind herself and slapped him.

Keith smirked, admiring their little rivalry. He tugged at his cheek as he rubbed the makeup remover over his golden blush. He was half way done when the dorm room slammed open.

A tall Cuban boy with a lilting Spanish accent and ruffled cocoa-coloured hair stormed in, followed by a young student in a dark green hoodie.

"Keith!?" Lance shrieked, running over and grabbing his rival by the shoulders, "Have you read the script?" Lance was panting, obviously tired. Behind him, Pidge held up their phone, apparently recording a video. Shiro and Allura rocketed off the bed, walking over to question Pidge.

"You alright, McClain?" Keith asked, shrugging the younger boy off his shoulders, "What's going on?"

"Have. you. read. the. script." Lance repeated, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

"Yes? I finished it yesterday." Keith's tone turned to ice, "why?"

"Do you know who you're playing?!" Lance asked desperately. Keith stared at him in confusion, wondering if this was some sort of joke about how he was playing a girl. It would be a very Lance-y thing to do. But… McClain looked terrified, shocked, even… embarrassed? Lance McClain looked embarrassed. That was probably the only way Keith knew this wasn't some prank.

"Cesario. Viola." He lowered his tone, "W.h.y." Surely Lance had known that. Surely Lance knew -

Lance screamed. Just flat-out shrieked.

"Lance!?" Shiro cried, covering his ears. Pidge was laughing their head off in the corner, "Pidge?!"

"WHY!" Lance yelled, falling to his knees, "WHYYY!?"

"What the heck McClain? What's wrong?" Keith pulled the taller boy to his feet, glaring him straight in the eyes.

Lance looked at him, eyes confused, face flushed. His words came out dry.

"We're getting married."

* * *

"I must've misheard you..." Keith hissed. He looked like he actually believed that, "cause I could swear you just said we were getting married."

"I'm Duke Orsino. You're Cesario." Lance whispered, barely audible, "Who is also Viola," he shook his head, looking repulsed, "Who I... marry."

Behind him, Pidge lowered their camera, seeming a little disappointed that there hadn't been more drama involved.

"I can't marry you!" Lance cried, still glaring at Keith indignantly.

"'marry'" Keith corrected, raising his hands next to his face, making air quotes.

He looked stupid like that, his left hand still holding a makeup covered wipe, the right side of his face still covered in red and gold makeup. His grey and red Green Day sweatshirt was dusted lightly with foundation and... blush, maybe? His black jeans were ripped at the knees, the skin underneath scuffed, probably from the last time he got into a fight. His black and grey combat boots were torn at the tops, somehow, and a few of the hooks were missing.

Keith hurriedly wiped down the rest of his face. He didn't quite get all of it, leaving a few smudges of red eyeshadow and gold blush on his cheeks. He seemed too pissed to care, jabbing his finger at Lance's chest.

"You," He stated, "are not the Duke."

Lance took a step back, if only to get away from the fingernail that had been digging into his pec. He looked Keith over, wondering what he had meant by that.

"I am, though." He said, gently lifting a hand to rub the spot that had been jabbed.

"Not anymore. Change. You're acting like this is the first time you've read the script. That means you haven't memorized anything." Keith placed his hands gently on his hips, "so change."

Shiro shook his head at the notion. "Can't be that simple. The director won't just change the casting because you guys hate each other."

Allura nodded, smirking a little, "Anyway, I'm not quite sure I believe that you don't want to." A makeup wipe hit her on the nose a second after she finished talking, thrown by a certain emo wearing a Green Day hoodie.

"Just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I like every guy I come across," Keith complained, "but fine. You want proof, I'll take McClain and go ask right now."

"Have fun, lovebirds!" Pidge called, smiling smugly.

"Ugh." Keith grumbled, grabbing Lance by the wrist firmly, dragging him roughly through the dorm room door. He glanced back at the room, not ever having gotten a good look at it before this.

Different '90s band memrobilia was plastered against the wall, which had been painted a dark grey. The two beds were in opposite corners, covered in two very distinct sets of sheets. One of them was covered in grey, purple and white leaves. The other one was black, and displayed a pair of red headphones, the cord swirling across the cover. There was a small table in the closest corner, covered in every imanigable textbook. Keith, being who he was, had also tried taking a teaching class. Said something about becoming a drama teacher. Not to be a downer, but Lance couldn't really imagine Kogane being a good teacher.

And then the door shut, and Lance was being dragged along the hallway by his wrist. Lance straightened himself, smoothing out his clothes and prying himself free of Keith's death grip.

Keith's plan was good. It made sense. Lance didn't know any of his lines, he hadn't even finished reading the script. They could plead with the Professor, and maybe Lance could get another role. If he couldn't, he could always quit. Except... he'd worked so hard to be one of the main characters. He'd wanted desperately to work up his credits. This was such a big step towards his degree. This was going to be amazing. It was going to be fun to spend time with his friends, and feel the lights. Not that he wouldn't get to if they changed his role, it was just...

"Wait." Lance grabbed Keith's arm and pulled him back, face to face. "No."

"No what?" Keith hissed, looking impatient.

"I'm not throwing away my role for you." Lance claimed firmly.

"What?"

"I am not ruining my best chance at my degree because of you, mullet."

"Lance-"

"This is mine." Lance said, steely determination, "You step down, or no one does."


	2. Chapter 2

The room was empty, dark, and really, really hot. Not that Lance minded. He was used to hot spaces. What he wasn't used to was Keith blowing up like a blasted bomb, and yelling at him. It wasn't that Keith didn't yell. He yelled all the blasted time. Certainly had the temper for it. He'd just never blown up _at Lance_. He'd never realized how terrifying such a small person could be. In the moment, Keith had seemed 9 feet tall and ready to murder 90% of the school. Lance assumed he'd leave Allura and Shiro alive. Who knows why. He just sticks to those two like Pidge to their laptop.

It had been nearly an hour since Keith went off, and Lance still wasn't over it. Shiro and Allura had showed up a few minutes after Keith started yelling at hime, and had basically calmed him down by using nice terms to tell him he was being a selfish and annoying prick.

Neither of the two boys had wanted to give up their roles, and there was no way in hell Allura would have let them take hers. Not that either of them particularly relished in the idea of being a woman. (It would't have mattered if they had. No one was going to pry Allura away from her role. She was pretty dedicated.)

After they'd calmed their little baby bomb off, the two of them had told Lance to go back to his room, try to regroup (he'd been crying). Lance hadn't argued. He'd barely even spoke. He couldn't stop thinking about how betrayed Keith's eyes had looked, how prepared for murder he was.

"Lance?"

Lance startled, turning around so quickly he wasn't quite sure he hadn't teleported. Hunk stood in the doorway, looking concerned. He was holding his backpack in one hand, and a package from the bakery downstairs, _Biscuits at Whiskers_ _._ His left hand was hovering over the light switch. "Can I... uh?"

"Go ahead, buddy." Lance replied, throwing his bag on the floor near the foot of his bed before flopping down on top of the horribly messy covers. A second later the white tubes in the ceiling lit up with an unnaturally bright light.

"I heard what happened..." Hunk murmured. Lance turned to look at him. He was throwing his own bag on a hook that he'd installed in the wall, "are you okay? I know how freaky Keith can get, but he'd never hurt anyone. He once bought me a coffee and a scone because he kicked the back of my heel."

"I'm fine. The guy just spooks me, ya know?" Lance threw his arm up in the air as he looked over at his friend, "and, I mean, what's his _deal_ , anyway? It doesn't _mean_ anything. It's for a play. It's for school. It's not like we actually _want_ to kiss."

"He'll get over it." Hunk assured him, opening the box from earlier and extending it to Lance. A dozen different types of donuts, laying ready for the taking. Lance could practically taste them already.

"Oh my god, Hunk." Lance cried taking one of the boston creme donuts from the centre of the box, he bit down on it, savouring the taste. Raising it up to his friend, mouth still full, Lance did his best to speak coherently.

"This is one of the many reasons why I love you. You're the best, big guy."

Hunk smiled. One of those sincere, genuine, soft smiles Lance had only ever seen the true beauty of one he'd befriended the guy. He took his time deciding which donut he was going to take, but eventually chose a jelly and pulled it carefully from the box.

"I wonder if they took my advice on how to lighten up the dough a little..." he mumbled before taking a large bite.

Lance had to smile. Hunk, ever the foodie. Lance had honestly been surprised when he'd learned that Hunk wasn't taking anything remotely culinary. He'd thought maybe Hunk would take some cooking courses, maybe a few business ones, and then start his own restaurant. That's always what he'd talked about doing. Imagine Lance's surprise when Hunk revealed he was taking film studies. Pleasant surprise. That meant they were in the same building.

"They'd be idiots not to." Lance mumbled at his friend through food.

The two were sitting on opposite sides of the room, both on the edge of their beds facing each other. Lance's side of the room was a mess. His bed wash't made, his clothes were on the floor, and several of his textbooks had fallen off his desk onto the floor. It was a stark contrast to Hunk's half of the room; a neatly made bed, an organized desk, and a nearly full laundry hamper (they never remembered to do laundry). He really should clean up his stuff. He could just never find the time. He'd more than once considered locking Pidge or Matt in here. They wouldn't last a minute. His room would probably look like a hospital room when he got back. Those two were such neat freaks. They'd probably colour-code his entire wardrobe.

A knock at the door snapped Lance out of his scheming and plotting. It was a heavy knock. A determined knock. Whoever it was was knocking hard enough to knock one of the towels off of it's hook on the door.

"Give a sec, okay?" Lance cried, not wanting the mystery person to create more work for him. It was probably Pidge. They had a knock like the entire building was being burned down by demons.

He dashed to the door, donut stuffed safely in his teeth. He flung open the door, ready to greet Pidge and offer them a donut in return for cleaning up his room. They'd do it anyway, even if he didn't give them a donut. Unfortunately, there was no neat-freak Holt standing at the door. Lance had never known Shiro to knock that hard. He was certainly strong enough to, though.

"Oh. Hey Lance." Shiro greeted, like he hadn't expected anyone to answer.

"Hey Shiro." Lance respond as best he could with a donut in his mouth. He opened the door a little, leaving room for Shiro to get in. "What's up?"

Shiro waved his hand, not moving to come in. "Just a question for Hunk. He in there?"

Shiro was the oldest of the gang, topping Allura by just 1 year. He was also the tallest by a landslide. He was 6' 6", and really buff. Not exactly the type of guy you'd expect to be taking cosmetology. But, _damn_ , the guy really was good at it. He loved it too. It was funny to try and get him ranting on the worst costume makeup in movies. That was probably the only time Lance teamed up with Keith. He was wearing one of his usual outfits. Black t-shirt, jeans, and a flannel with the sleeves rolled up. He rocked it.

Hunk shuffled from the back of the room, box of donuts in hand. He extended them towards Shiro, who made a joke of pretending to take the whole box. He handed the box back to Hunk, taking a double chocolate from the left edge of the box. Ever one for lame jokes. _Dad joke_ level lame. Lame enough to make Lance laugh.

"Thanks bud." He said, raising the donut in Hunks general direction before taking a bite of it.

"What's up?" Hunk asked quietly, looking confused.

"What shade of blue are you using for the ocean set?" Shiro asked after he finished chewing. Hunk was working backstage as assistant director/ set manager. Shiro's class was doing makeup for the play. And it was exactly like Shiro to walk halfway across campus to ask what _specific shade_ of bluethe ocean was _._

Hunk seemed to be strangely prepared for this, because he immediately dashed into the room, and came back with a pack of colour swatches. Lance ambled away from the conversation as they discussed which colours went best with the blue. He fell down on the bed, trying not to dread the day when he had to kiss Keith Kogane.

00-00

* * *

00-00

Keith sat quietly on the bed, watching Allura go over her lines, watching her try to figure out how to pronounce the name 'Cesario' with the proper accent. Keith'd listened to her repeat the name for nearly a minute before losing interest. He couldn't stop thinking, _dreading_ , the day when the director would call out the words 'Viola and Orsino's kiss scene'. He knew it was stupid. Knew he was being immature. Knew it didn't mean anything. But he ached and dreaded, sat on the edge of his bed, glaring at nothing, and conjured up resentment for those words. Or tried to, at least. It was uncharacteristically hard today. He couldn't stop wondering. Wondering why Lance wouldn't change roles. Wondering why Keith wouldn't change roles. Wondering what it would feel like to kiss the damnable guy.

And it wasn't because he liked Lance.

It wasn't because he wanted to kiss him.

It was because he kept wondering if Lance wanted to.

It was because he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to the look of determination on Lance's face when he'd said no.

It was because Keith had listened.

It was because he'd wanted to listen.

Keith sat there on his bed, quietly listening to the murmurous repetition of Allura's practicing. He sat there quietly and let his mind wander to the more attractive than is reasonable cuban boy. He let his mind wander to wherever it wanted to go. And his mind kept wandering to Lance McClain.


End file.
